


O Captain My Captain

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: Torchwood Ficlets [13]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Post-Episode: s01e13 End of Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: After
Series: Torchwood Ficlets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711324
Kudos: 10





	O Captain My Captain

They'd done it. They'd survived. They'd survived Bilis' machinations to open the rift, they'd survived Abbadon, they'd survived their own betrayal.

Jack hadn't.

Debris scattered the hub as Ianto wandered through the darkened base, searching out any possible source of caffeine. He'd spent hours putting out a plausible cover story while Tosh tried to get their systems back online and Owen and Gwen tended to Jack. The media was buying the story of a toxic cloud over Cardiff, that left people ill but recovering. It seemed that in the wake of Abbadon's destruction, what had been caused by him had then been undone.

Jack was the only casualty.

His sacrifice would go unsung, Ianto knew. The anonymous worker who shut off the leaking valve causing the cloud, the only fatality in the event, the silent, unknown hero. It was all Ianto could do to make up for his betrayal, to honor his Captain's heroic tendencies in the end. There would be a memorial held somewhere, he knew, wreaths and banners dedicated to a man that no-one would ever know.

Jack was laying cold and still in the morgue.

Even Tosh's attempts to restart the Hub's system weren't enough to break the tense silence, as if the Hub itself had died with Jack. Ending his search for caffeine, Ianto instead began the arduous task of cleaning up. He should have been grateful, should have been rejoicing at being alive, at having seen the world saved once again.

But his Captain was dead, and all he felt was empty.

**Author's Note:**

> O Captain My Captain  
> Walt Whitman
> 
> O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;  
> The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;  
> The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,  
> While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:  
> But O heart! heart! heart!  
> O the bleeding drops of red  
> Where on the deck my Captain lies,  
> Fallen cold and dead.
> 
> O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;  
> Rise up – for you the flag is flung – for you the bugle trills;  
> For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths – for you the shores a-crowding;  
> For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;  
> Here Captain! Dear father!  
> This arm beneath your head;  
> It is some dream that on the deck,  
> You've fallen cold and dead.
> 
> My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;  
> My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;  
> The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;  
> From fearful trip the victor ship, comes in with object one;  
> Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!  
> But I, with mournful tread,  
> Walk the deck my Captain lies,  
> Fallen cold and dead


End file.
